Changeling
by Elizabeth Cords
Summary: aka "Don't Call Me a F#*king Fairy". Just a short, twisted reinvention of Riddick's world. Post TCOR - Rid runs into... Jack? Riddick is Riddick. Jack is... Jack again? Just read it. And don't blame me if you spit-take on the monitor, giggling.
1. Chapter 1

_**This came out of a story I'm writing over at VinXperience. (I may or may not post it here when I'm done.) It deals with fairy sight, but is firmly planted in the sci-fi reality of TCOR.**_

_**But, I read a lot of YA Fairy Fiction. (A debt of substance/style goes out to Holly Black and Melissa Marr - both wonderful authors of 'urban fey' series. ) And my twisted little brain just latched on to the idea of Riddick and *snork* fairies. I've seen some crossover stuff... but not like this. Poor Riddick... his reality is about to get flipped.  
**_

_**Rated M for language.**_

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They'd caught him on Delta 6. Marti Gras of all things. Thought he'd be safe in a Carnival town. Minding his own damn business (mostly) in a bar off Bourbon Street. Fuckers weren't stupid, snuck up behind him and tranked his ass. He gave them points for that. Ballsy. He could usually smell them coming a mile away. This team, professional - and clean.

That was the weird bit. He'd never really run into mercs that cleaned up nice. That cleaned up at all. Too much time scratching around the dirty underbelly of society, where their quarry hid out. Had to think like a con, act like a con, blend in... and that meant rollin' in the same shit they did. Scared people, panicked people, didn't give a rat's ass about hygiene or social decorum. Most of the time, they were too busy running, nursing whatever wounds the latest near miss or escape had scored them.

He'd always prided himself on that. Keeping clean, when he could. Higher class of con. He may like getting dirty, but he knew civies, especially women, didn't dig the blood and grime. Too used to fuck-ups like Toombs and Johns, space cowboys that think the grit earned them some respect, some sort of macho outlaw shit. That was why he could always smell them coming.

Ballsy too that they had a female on their crew as the trigger woman. Very anonymous looking - neither the psycho-dyke or an ingénue. Yeah, he knew words like that, learned them from taunts when he fell for it the first time. Fresh bait. The kind he responded to. Innocent and defenseless.

But these guys, darted him, and had him cuffed almost before he hit the ground. 3 man team - with backup outside. Probably paid the bar owner. Oh well. He'd been lax, sitting at the bar anyway. Always keep a wall to your back, Rid. Basic rules of survival.

Whatever drugs they fed him were new too. Made him fuckin' docile. Doped but mobile. Some sort of mindfuck hypno-cocktail, shit'd probably mess him up permanent. All they had to do was lead. Surround him and march him out of the bar. Groggy and complacent. He wanted to snap their fucking necks, and he couldn't lift a finger.

Their crew chief, Maxon, didn't even seem worried that they were leading him down a crowded street full of partying civies. Drunk, stupid, unpredictable masses. The kind of easy distraction Riddick could usually turn into an adventagious riot in about 6 seconds. But he couldn't push past the mental fog. Shit. He was drooling. Attractive.

The local badges spotted them down the block. Even in the crush of costumed revelers. Well, yeah... 5 psuedo-military fucks in fatigues and one big, drooling idiot. They had to come over and throw their weight around.

Didn't bother him. Few more precious minutes for the toxic sludge to burn up in his system. He could hope they didn't have a needle big enough for him. He'd heard one slam doctor snidely remark they needed to get out the big vet needles for him. Sensible precaution, but not much good when said needle ended up embedded in your own skull. He giggled briefly. He hadn't meant to... but 5 autocannons cocked in response. Skittish bunch, but they weren't stupid. That sucked. He liked stupid. Stupid was easy to escape from.

He managed to raise his head a bit, blearily focus down the alley to his right. That was when he saw her. Sitting on a dumpster, staring right back at him. Shock made his blood run cold. She smiled, jumped down, and began a slow walk toward them. Had to be a hallucination. Fucking ghosts from his memory. She stretched lazily, ran hands over her shaved skull. Fuckin' _winked _at him and gave a thumbs up. Casually strolling closer. He backed up a step, stumbled, and got shoved face first into the concrete wall.

His nose shattering was enough to clear his head. Kinda a love tap really, as far as he was concerned. But it should have been enough to banish the ghost. Cuz she was dead. Long dead. And certainly not 13 years old anymore. But as merc 1 pulled him back from the wall, she was still standing there, looking slightly hurt, and anger flashed through those big blue eyes.

They still hadn't noticed her. Maxon was schmoozing, puffed up from his capture, buddy-buddy with the cops, explaining his technique. Traza-trypto-hyrin-something - 286. Used to bring down wild charging predators on safari. Great. They had dosed him with vet meds. Fuckers. Probably explained the hallucination, bet street kids got high on this shit.

He shook his head, trying to get the blood out of his eyes from where his forehead had scraped along the wall. Nose was beginning to swell, couldn't feel it much, pain receptors weren't working well. And she was still there, at the mouth of the alley, bouncing from one foot to the other, chewing her lip. Her eyes narrowed, what was she thinking?

After a second, she shrugged. Looked at him hard, put a finger to her lips. Then she crept forward, sidling between guards 2 and 4. Both were busy lookin' at the topless girls across the street, baring all for shiny strands of plastic beads. Maxon and the cops looked over, impressed by at least one pair of oversized silicon bouncing. The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes, mugged disgust.

She reached down and pressed a thumb to DNA coded lock on his cuffs. The compression click-release noise was lost in the screaming crowds. Riddick stared down dumbly, unable to move. Half his brain was thinkin' _how the fuck she do that?!?_ and the other half was screaming at him to _run._

She flashed him a brilliant, conspiratorial grin, and he drooled on her in appreciation. She rolled her eyes again, and dug a tissue or rag out of her pocket. She cleaned her hands, and then stood on tip-toe to wipe the blood off his nose and lips. She screwed her mouth up in one of those motherly distaste expressions, then shoved her fingers in her mouth to stifle a giggle. Yeah, she was actin' like herself, damn kid sister taking care of big brother. Why was he dreamin' this?

Suddenly she wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, pulling his head down in a spit-sucking kiss. Full on, open mouth, vacuum-style. He saw stars for a minute, then a vicious nausea had him projectile puking on mercs 1 & 2's shiny boots. Little sister giggled this time, high and insane, as she danced back out of the way.

Obscenities, shock, backpedaling... that was about all the reactions they had time for before they died. Snapped 2's neck, had his blaster emptied on 1 and 3 and 4 before 2's body hit the ground. Quick controlled bursts. Maxon had been shoved straight into the two local lawmen and sent sprawling, something the girl shouldn't have been able to do - didn't have the strength at her size. He didn't stop to care. She had him by the hand and was dragging him through the crowd down the street - faster than even he was used to.

She didn't stop until they were at the back side of the spaceport, which should have taken them at least half an hour. Seemed like a few minutes. He was actually breathing hard, winded, though politely pretended not to notice. Whatever that shit was in his system, he was going to have a hell of a hangover, his head was already pounding.

"What the fuck?!?" He managed to huff out, as she led him through the dark rows of private ships docked for the night. She didn't pause, didn't turn around.

"Not now. Wait till we're off-planet. Don't wanna talk here." Fuck, even her voice was the same. That soft, smooth child's voice, untainted by years of hard living and the hells she'd seen. It couldn't be her though, could it?

"It is you, isn't it? Can't be, but it is."

She turned those luminous blue eyes on him, so bright and clear, even in the dark. Sad little smile as she put her finger to her lips. "Shhh."

Then she pointed to a ship on the left. He immediately cataloged it. Wing 6 Talon, private mod, it was a Security Forces ship, retired older model, sold off at auction. Fast, streamline, small - not built for more than minor interplanetary jumps. But then he saw the off-color grey gleam of Tech-8 drive thrusters messin' up the sleek lines at the back. Owner was probably some rich fuck, thinkin' he was tough, toolin' around looking like the badges. Average civie sees the damn outline and instinctively gives a wide berth. He should boost it on principle.

There was a hiss by the front door, as the girl lifted her palm from the scan pad. So much for breakin' in. He eyed her wicked grin as she gestured for him to enter first. "Don't tell me this is your fuckin' ride," he muttered with a bit of his normal growl. She giggled and shook her head, skipping in behind him.

He went straight for the bridge, cataloging the controls, checking for obnoxious civilian modifications. Had to make it 'easy' for the average driver, and remove the weapon and scanning hardware. Only good thing is that they had nice shiny labels on all the non-intuitive controls. Couldn't have a luxury ride without temperature control and fuckin' seat warmers, now could ya?

He settled into the pilot's chair and started preflight. No sense wasting time. He felt her watching him from the doorway. "Have a seat," he grunted, kicking the co-pilot chair so it spun around. He glanced back at her when she didn't respond. She was shivering, hugging herself, shaking her head. And she looked a little green.

"No... I'll be in the back. Come find me when we're in the air."

"Help if I have a course to set."

"Shorak system."

"Huh... never been there. What's there?"

He turned when she didn't answer.

"Jack?"

She'd already left.


	2. Chapter 2

He found her in the mess, or what served as it, in the small back quarters. Converted holding cells along the back wall had been repurposed as a sleeping area. The cargo area in the rear had a kitchenette, and a table where she sat, drinking tea. At least, that's what he assumed it was, steaming in the ceramic mug she clutched too tightly. He glanced at the silver pouch on the table next to her, and she quickly palmed it, shoved it in her pants. Apparently she wasn't sharing.

At least she looked better, less like she was going to pass out. He grabbed a chair and sat across from her, still staring at the mug. It smelled funny, and where she'd gotten ceramics bothered him a bit. Steel was standard issue for most space travel. Didn't fuckin' break when you hit atmospheric turbulence. She caught him staring and hunched, sighed. Tried for a smile.

"Medicinal." She swirled the cup. "Not slam tea, but few things are."

"You gonna claim to know about that?" He folded his arms across his chest. Off. Everything was off. Her age, her skills, her behavior. Her lips quirked, expression going sardonic.

"Death by teacup? Yeah. I know." She drained the cup, set it back down between them. Opened her mouth to say something else, and stopped. Scrubbed her hands over her scalp, squirmed. Finally she shoved away from the table, began to pace the small space. Riddick didn't move, just tracked her jittery progress. He could wait. One thing he'd learned in his life was patience.

"I... we... I'm sorry." She chewed her thumbnail, glancing at him sideways. He quirked an eyebrow, nothing more. She made an exasperated noise. Threw herself back in the chair. "I'm sorry it has to be like _this._" She slumped again. Agitated. Riddick was stone. She pleaded with her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry _I'm_ like this." She indicated her small, familiar body. She balled her fists, pounded the table.

"Like what?" He finally prompted. Yeah, she was exactly like he remembered her, when they'd left M6-117. Maybe a little less battered, but fuck, she was even dressed the same. Boys clothes, too big for her skinny frame. Still, shit had been weird since they'd tranqued him. And he was used to weird. At this point, normal made him itchy.

"I.. Kyra... wasn't me. She's my... _was_ my sister. Heart sister. Half sister." She made a face, bitter, disgusted. "Dad was pretty busy that year." She leaned back and blew out a breath. Riddick fought down a wave of anger.

"So she lied to me. _You _lied to me." He tried to keep the growl out of his tone. Fuck, he was used to betrayal. That it still got to him was the surprise. "Even if it's true, doesn't explain why you're still a fuckin' squirt."

She looked hurt, but also guilty. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be that way. I couldn't deal with Abu... Helion. When you left, it was too much... the city. " She got up and began pacing again. Muttering under her breath. Something about... _iron_?

"Why don't you quit talkin' around it, Jack? Whatever it is you're not telling me." She stopped, looked at him pleadingly.

"I'm not supposed to, not till we get there." She shook her head, dropped back in the chair, staring at her hands in her lap like they were interesting. "You won't believe me anyway." He snorted.

"Remember who you're talkin' to, squirt."

A smile ghosted her face. "Yeah. I guess. But this is gonna be weird, even for you." He eyed her, grunted, disbelieving.

She leaned forward on her elbows. "Ok Riddick, tell me what you know about fairies."


	3. Chapter 3

Riddick barked out a laugh. "You serious?" Jack bit her lip, nodding emphatically. "Like fuckin' pixies and shit?" Her blue eyes looked wounded for a second, but she nodded again.

"Like that's got anything to do with anything." Riddick grumped, incredulous. Jack blew out a breath, gripped the table.

"Answer the question." Her tone was serious, almost dark. He shoved his goggles up his forehead, leaned across the table, fixing her with a hard stare. She didn't flinch. He growled and leaned back in the chair. Ok, fine.

"Not much, if you're lookin' for a story, kid. Not exactly hot conversation in fuckin' slam, unless you're insulting the guy in the shower next to you. " She sighed again.

"Don't play dumb. You know more than that." Those blue eyes bored into him. "Fair Folk. Fey. The Kind Ones. The Old Ones." Riddick was fixed by the intensity of her azure stare. Something sparked in the back of his brain. Old, warm, liquid... it killed the smart retort in his throat.

"You're a Changeling, Riddick. I know. We know. " Her voice had changed again, the childish lilt gone. Deeper, smoother. Smoky, melodic. Mesmerizing. His focus shrank sharply._ Like fuckin' cryo dreams, grabs you by the eyeballs, you can't shake it off. _

"We made sure you knew the stories," she continued. "Placed you with a guardian for a while. She read to you, taught you of the Old Ways."

"Gramma Venters."He barely recognized the name coming from his own mouth. Jack's eyes closed as she dipped her head, acknowledging. It snapped him out of the trance. His head flooded with memories. The words spilled out.

"She... fuck, she was like, a million years old. Couldn't believe they let her have a foster kid, let alone a wild little shit like me."

"You were four, Riddick." God, her voice sounded so old, knowing. He shuttered against the assault of conflicting emotions.

One of the few good places he'd been, growing up. Got pulled out of... wherever the hell he'd been. Fighting again, or being disrespectful. Angry, bitter, already sick of being passed around. Then this ancient old lady with her weird accent. Fuck... where was it anyway? Freyli? Fashka? Some backwater prairie planet, little old lady with this brogue-ish accent, nothing like the other settlers. He remembered cats and sheep. Hated the cats. Always hated cats. Always lookin' at him funny.

Granny didn't care. Let him do what he wanted, which was mostly run himself stupid all over the farmstead. As long as he was home by dark. Had to be home by dark. Didn't want him roaming, even when he was restless after sunset. _They_ might come, might steal him away. Couldn't have that now. After all the trouble keepin' track of 'im already. The Dark Ones. The Solitary Ones. They could smell 'im, she'd said. Try to lead him off, into the woods. And if he was lost, oh... the Queen would be so cross.

So she fed him, and entertained him with stories. Stories of the Fair Folk. The Kind Ones. The Fey. Stories of the courts, the battles, the way things were on ancient Terra. Stories of foolish humans that meddled in their affairs, or caught their fancy. 'Just So' stories, why things happened, how animals got their attributes, or why humans shied away from dark primal things. Why she hung a horseshoe on an iron nail over the inside door, why she left milk and bread by the fireplace (the damn cats ate it when she wasn't looking), why the colored orbs she called witchballs hung over the windows, why she tossed salt over her shoulder when she spilled it.

His favorites were the stories of the Dark Court, the Unseelie. Much more interesting than pretty pixies and helpful brownies... he preferred those that punished, reveled in the battles of blood and gore. Stories of the hunt, and the foolish mortals who were often prey. Dark, slithery things that dragged men into the ocean and drank their blood, cracked their bones to suck the marrow; or led them deep into bogs, only to watch them drown and feed their watery gardens.

Riddick rousted himself out of the thick, syrupy memories. He'd only been with her a season or two. Taken away again. Mutterings of 'clerical mistake.' He'd fuckin' fought them then. Wanted to stay. Couldn't understand why he was being moved - again. He'd been _good._ He was _happy_. No wonder he'd suppressed it. System failing him yet again. Just more fuel on the fire. He glanced at Jack. Growled at his own exposure.

"What the fuck you know about that?" Things had just hit crazy town. They'd left weirdsville behind. His hand moved under the table, seeking the reassuring pressure of the shiv strapped to his thigh. He didn't like having his head fucked with. Or his reality.

"One thing you should remember about the Fey, Riddick. We can't lie." Her voice was too deep, still. It unnerved him. She held him in another unblinking stare.

"Don't fuckin' tell me you're a fuckin' fairy, Jack. And don't think I missed the 'we.' " He snarled, holding himself very still. She didn't miss the threat.

"I'm still who you I was when you met me." Her eyes pleaded for understanding. "I'm a pixie yes, and I was raised as a changeling. In the human world. Like my sister... like you."

"DON'T!" The knife was out now, the hilt slammed on the metal table, denting it. She cringed, skittered back, shoving the chair away from table, his anger. "Didn't believe that shit as a kid, and I ain't believing it now. Bad enough fuckin' Elementals screw with my heritage, make me something I'm not. Sick of bullshit games that flip reality sideways and make me do shit I don't wanna do!" He stood slowly, brandishing the knife at her. She cringed.

"I told you you wouldn't believe me! Berrel told me to wait! But I _told_ you I can't lie!" Her voice had gone high again, childish in her panic. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Fairies can't fuckin' cry!" He didn't know why he said that. It sounded stupid, even to him. Somehow that defused his anger... saying something idiotic like that. Hard to be menacing when you say dumb shit.

"I told you! I was raised with humans, dammit! You pick that shit up when you're raised as a normal kid!" She scrubbed a fist over her eyes, huffed, and drew her knees up to her chest on the chair.

"_You_ were never a normal kid, Jack." He poked the knife in her direction for emphasis and then sat down again. She hid her face, shuddered. Took a deep breath.

"I was sent after you, on that ship, after Johns," she said finally, laying her cheek on her knees. "Berrel said it was time. Time to bring you in. Things had happened... at court. Shifts in power." She shook her head, glanced up at him. "Things got royally screwed though, when the ship went down."

"That's one way to put it," he grumbled.

"I was young, I didn't know how to handle it. Whatever... and by the way, I can tell you now, it wasn't what you thought... the blood, back on hell-planet. I fuckin' lost a wing in the crash, ok? Bleeding out pixie dust, dammit. Those cryo-tubes aren't set up for pixies. "

"You didn't have wings, Jack. Just like you don't have them now." She rolled her eyes, tsked him.

"Glamour, Riddick. Just cuz humans can't see 'em, doesn't mean they're not there." Riddick snorted, leaned back in his chair, disbelieving.

"_Anyway_, that's what drew those fuckin' beasties. Why they woke early. Active before dark. You don't honestly think some nasty nightmares like that could exist _naturally_ on a planet like that? With nothing to eat?" Riddick snorted.

"Been on enough rocks that somehow had worse shit surviving on nothing."

"They were exiled there, Riddick. Mutant demon things... I don't know _what_." She shook her head. "Who knows how and when. They were drawn by magic as much as blood. And there was nothing I could do, and I couldn't even break cover... because they had me in a spell to keep me safe from all the iron." Riddick grunted, then his eyes narrowed.

"Iron. Right. Fairies are allergic to that shit, aren't they?" Jack pursed her lips, grinning bemusedly.

"So you do remember something." Her gaze flicked to the shiv he'd laid on the table. "Yeah... iron, steel, all the derivative alloys. Makes us real sick. Can kill us."

"Yet you're sittin' right there, riding in a giant iron can." She shook her head, giggled.

"I _told_ you, I'm protected by the glamour spell. If I break it, yeah, I'll start yakkin' up stuff and go coma. _But._.. " She paused, looking at him smugly. "this baby's titanium - _mostly_. Built for speed and maneuverability." She kicked the metal table in front of her. "This shit though, irritates me. I have _some_ natural immunity, having been raised by humans. More than most pixies. But that stuff I was drinking, that was sent along to help."

Riddick contemplated her a minute. Couldn't decide what to ask next. He was on a crazy train with a bat-shit loony pixie, masquerading as a girl he'd know 15 years ago. She was dragging him who-knows where in the universe, probably to a fairy ring to dance with her buddies. Because that's the kind of dreams crazy drugged murdering psychopaths had. Made about as much sense as all that religious crap the Necros tried to feed him before he blew up their damn flagship. High Marshal this, and Underverse that. He really should have rammed them straight into Quintessa. Wonder how Aereon and her damn fairy-ass Elementals would have dealt with _that_ shift in the 'balance.'

"Hey... so where the Elementals fit in this?" Jack snorked, shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Subject change much? Yeah... um... they're like another mutant breed of fey and humanity... offshoot. Inbreeding there is worse than most royal courts." She sniggered. "They're from solitary fey stock... elemental spirits, just like they claim." She shrugged, then turned serious. "Yeah, dunno how Aereon found out about you. It's a lot of bullshit. Can't believe she pulled that Alpha Furyan myth on you." She rolled her eyes.

"It's true... sort of," she continued. "You _are_ Furyan. Your father was. But there's a lot of troll blood intermixed in that race. That's what makes them so strong. Trolls _love_ the volcanic mountains, the caves and solitude. But they also _love_ swappin' kids with humans. It's a status thing... since humans are considered so... attractive by the big ugly buggers. " She grinned again, her eyes sparkling.

"It happens a lot, when a human child is raised by trolls, or vice-versa, they marry into their adopted culture. On a planet like Furya, where extreme conditions make toughness and strength the ideal qualities, who cares if you lose out in the looks department for a few generations?" Riddick growled low.

"I'm not insulting you!" She giggled again. "It's probably like, 20 generations back, sheesh!" She lifted a finger, pointed at him. "Besides, I think Berrel said you had some Leóghan in you."

"What?"

"Sorry... Lion-kin. Feline wilde fey. The spirit sisters who care for them, move them every few generations. They dream-breed though, Leóghan - I mean. Dirty trick if you ask me, but humans _do_ have such fertile imaginations." She snickered. "Sometimes the feral spirits get trapped in the host." She shrugged. "It would explain why you're always so damn _snarly_."

"Sure. Now I'm a fuckin' troll-lion half-breed bastard. Makes about as much sense as that Alpha shit Aereon was spewing." He crossed his arms again. "So what about her using me to save the universe." Jack sighed, got up and started pacing again.

"I can tell you what I _know_, what I suspect, and what Kyra told me." She paused, scuffed her feet. Her shoulders scrunched. She looked pained. She moved over to the bunk against the wall. Sat. Lay down. Closed her eyes.

"I couldn't take it after you left. Abu told you that, I know. But it wasn't just that you _left._ It was the city - the iron everywhere... and ugh! all the Christlam _bullshit_ Abu was always spewing." She shuddered theatrically. "The sun is what did it though... I'm Dark Court, Night Fey. Constant sun on Helios, those generators at night. I complained, they brought in Kyra."

" And no one noticed," his tone was heavy with sarcasm.

Jack opened her eyes, smiled weakly, shook her head. "No. I told you, she was my Heart-Sister. We were almost identical... even without the glamour. She was half-human though. Our father... is a member of the Dark Court. Neither of us is officially acknowledged. Like I said, Daddy got around." She sighed, rolled on her back, shut her eyes again.

"She could handle things on Prime, at least for a while. Till we figured out you _weren't_ coming back. She got tired of playing undercover agent... got a little wild. Bolted. Though I won't lie to you and say they didn't find her, shove her in your path on Crematoria."

"She knew shit though. And don't tell me she smelled the same to me cuz you're sisters." Jack smiled at him weakly, tears in her eyes again.

"No. It's probably the magic you smelled more than anything, Rid. But... we communicate through blood exchange - pass our lives back and forth. We can do it other ways," she made a face, "like kissing. That's kinda what I did to you, drawing that drug out of you. I just broke the link before I drew it into myself."

"That's seriously fucked up, Jack. Useful, but fucked up." She shrugged.

"The last time I saw her was after she snuck on the Necro ship, after she thought you were dead. They hadn't told her what was going on - with the Necros, I mean. With Aereon. But they ordered her to stay on the ship. Stay with those fucking... creepy fuckers."

"_They. _You keep saying _'They.'_ I don't like '_They.' _Buncha manipulative fuckin' string-pullers sounds like to me."

"Riddick... " She chewed her lip. "I'm an agent of the Dark Court. I do what I'm told by Barrel if I want to belong. What he and the Queen want... It's my home. It's my people. I do what's best so we all survive."

Riddick didn't say anything. Just eyed her, hard. Survive_, yeah right._ He let the accusation hang in the air. Jack bolted upright, grabbed the edge of the bunk.

"Don't you _dare!_ She was my _sister!_ I loved her! No one knew she was going to _die!_ Helping _you_, I might add!"

"Careful, Jack."

"They put her there to spy on Zhylaw - the Lord Marshal - ok? They wanted to know why Aereon and the Elementals had their panties in a knot over his bullshit!

Yeah, he was killing humans. Not our business. Not_ hers_ either. But we found out," her voice grew bitter. "All that shit they were spewing about the Underverse. Remind you of anything?"

Riddick looked at her. "No. It was their bullshit nirvana. Eternal life and all that crap."

"_Under_-verse, Riddick. Like '_under the hill.'_ Like, oh, every fucking fairy story of where we live? The fairy mounds? Beneath the hillock?" She screamed in frustration, furious about something. She jumped up. Strode to the table, slammed her fists down in front of him.

"Their fucking first Lord Marshal went to the 'end of the universe.' You know what he found? Our fucking gate. Our passage between the worlds. How we cross the vale. Even _we_ didn't know it was a physical place! To us it's just.." she threw her hands up. "...underground. Under the hill."

"Doesn't explain why you're so pissed."

"You know what he did? What those fucking High Lords did? How they got their god-damn otherworldly powers?! _They killed and ate fey._" She was vibrating in rage now. "They were batshit crazy, _obviously_, but they _ate_ them! Didn't matter _who_ was passing by. Just cannibalized 'em! Made them even crazier than before - but that's their religion! EATING FAIRIES!!!" She threw herself back on the bed, close to hyperventilating.

After a minute, she regained enough composure to continue. "That's why Aereon was worried, really. That Zhylaw would make the connection to _her_ damn race." Her smile was mean. "He told her once he wanted to save her planet for last... before the great migration to Underverse."

"So all that life after death shit?"

"Just that. Crap for the masses, placate the simple-minded while you used them as cannon-fodder." She shook her head. "Kyra figured it out.. but I wasn't told till after she was dead." She shook her head.

"Doesn't explain why Aereon got me involved in it." Jack made a noise, collapsed in the chair again.

"Getting to that. I told you she figured out what you are, or at least your potential. " She looked at him seriously. She was exhausted after her outburst, he saw.

"You're a changeling, Riddick. Halfbreed raised among humans, with all the benefits that entails. Mainly, being impervious to iron." She kicked the leg of the table, making the shiv rattle."I don't agree with how they went about it -and obviously your first parents knew something was up, dumping you in the trash like that." Riddick growled low. She just gave him a tired look.

"You can _kill _fairies, Riddick. You're a killer, born and raised. Aereon twisted it, but didn't lie. You could take out the Lord Marshal. As you did. Kyra tried to help you. She got a steel pike in the gut for it."

"That's it?"

"That's it. The rest, Berrel can tell you. I'm bound against telling you more." Riddick snorted.

"That's fuckin' plenty. " He stood, glowered down at her. "Makes sense, in a fucked up sorta way, but you got no proof." She met his gaze tiredly, shrugged.

"I don't have any, other than what I told you. And that I got you here. That's why I was supposed to wait till we got to Hólinn."

"Hólinn? You mean Olin? That's a private planet, from what I heard." Jack smiled.

"Yeah, it's private. But we have an invitation." He turned, started back to the cockpit. Paused at the door.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Rid?" She was rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Don't ever, and I mean, _ever,_ call me a fucking fairy."

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**_And that... dear readers, is as far as I've gone with this. Much like "Drifter" (at VinX) - it's just a vague character study that got away from me... not 100% on the plot. But chapters 2 & 3 came out in one (quick) burst when I should have been doing my homework today._**

**_(So yes, tell me if there are any glaring errors, I'm stream of consciousness writing this.)  
_**

**_Yeah... see that's the thing. I'm a grad student. May be a while before I update this. But if I get some encouragement... *cough* reviews *cough* maybe I'll be inspired by an impatient audience. _**

**_Ciao._**


	4. Chapter 4

_Olin - privately held class 6 mining world in Shorak system. Colonized 387-96 C.A. by private company. Held in trust by G5 Farrlik & Co. legal council. No soliciting. No emergency services. Security class 7 proximity system - do not approach._

Riddick tapped the console absently. The shorter and more terse the standard interspace readout was, the more firepower they usual had on the defense system. May as well post "Private Property- Trespassers will be Shot on Sight" sign on the nearest orbiting asteroid. Reminded him of Company headquarters - that was two sentences: _InterSpace Confederation Company Homeworld. Proper Authorization Required_.

The automatic "back off" subspace guard-dog message had already been yapping at him for the last 5 ticks. Another 10 and the ship would be close enough for the "get off the lawn, or we're release the hounds" warning shots. Standard AI Defense System procedure - last chance to turn back. Anything over a class 3 defense system, probably meant security satellites with EMP pulse weapons - disable the ship and drag it back out to the space lanes - off the lawn. You make a second pass - you got strafed. Or atomized. Not many worlds - even the uber-rich, ultra-private resort moons - could afford a class 5 system. Even triple max slams didn't usually get issued anything above a 4. Now he really wondered what Jack had him in for...

"Jack, get up here," he barked over the com. She appeared at the door a moment later, a small yellowed scroll dangling by a ribbon in her fingers.

"You'll be wanting this, I imagine." She smiled cheekily as she dropped the parchment in his outstretched hand. He stared at the tiny roll a moment, clearly disgusted, before opening it. "Coordinates, and the security codes," she added helpfully.

"Uh huh." Riddick raised an eyebrow at the neatly embellished scrollwork. Had they used actual _ink_? Fuckin' lot of work for a few damn numbers. "What the hell, a pixie write this?" Jack snorted.

"No, Riddick. _I'm_ a pixie." She crossed her arms. "We're _not _little." Riddick shot her a glance, smirking. Jack stuck her tongue out, annoyed. "Probably one of Berrel's brownie helpers. It doesn't matter. It should get you past security and to the landing pad. I'm going back to sleep." She flounced out with as much dignity as her 4 ft 9 inches could muster.

* * *

Riddick had been surprised at the trouble-free landing. From above, the planet looked like any other red-brown dirtball. Atmo was showing marginally breathable, temperature tolerable, but no native life to the burned-out volcanic planetoid. So yeah, mining world.

Once they got below cloud cover though, it was another story. The area they were landing in spread out like a green oasis, a vivid drop of color against the dusky dark plains. Obviously terraformed, but even the genetic stuff usually didn't take so... extensively. Looked like some old Terran painting. Deciduous forests and open grassy valleys. No sign of the native landscape at all. Like someone had scooped up an island and just plopped it down here. Riddick let the auto-lander do it's thing, he was busy staring out the viewer at the anomalous woods surrounding the landing pad. And then the hella-expensive ships docked around them. Half a dozen streamline frames crouched in a semi-circle around their position. Their souped-up ride looked pitifully low-class compared to them.

Took him only a few seconds to realize what had him on edge. No security. No life anywhere to speak of. There wasn't even a garage or power shed nearby. Like whoever owned these insanely expensive rockets had just ditched them on the lawn like a kid's bicycle. Place gave him the creeps.

Jack was out the door almost the second they touched down. He knew she was itchy from the iron sickness, but a face full of noxious rocket fumes couldn't have been much better for her. When he disembarked into the obnoxious sunny afternoon, he sighted her almost at the end of the tarmac, whirling in crazy-girl circles. You think she hadn't been dirt-side in years, the way she was grinning like a four-year old. She had ditched her shoes and was practically dancing in the grass when he caught up to her.

"Home," she muttered, spreading her arms wide and falling back into the turf. Her eyes closed and she put her hands behind her head. "Ya feel it?" Riddick squinted at the idyllic valley, all sunshine, breezy birdsong.

"No."

Jack sighed exasperatedly. "You still don't believe me."

Riddick just stared at her, unmoving, as she scrambled back to her feet. She brushed detritus off her clothes. "Fine. I know something that'll convince you."

Before Riddick could answer, she was off running again. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't toward the welcome shadows of the woods. What could he do but follow her?

Up over the rise, into the next valley, where the spacepad disappeared from view. He didn't know if it was the air, or the gravity of this place, but Jack seemed to almost not touch the ground in her skipping, leaping run. He didn't usually get planetary-hypoxia, but this whole place was so surreal, he was beginning to wonder about the air quality. She was darting back and forth across the grass, staring at the ground, making circles and then randomly dancing off again. It was like watching a crazed insect.

"What are you looking for?" He finally asked as she toed the grass yet again.

"Clover." She pointed at the small white flowers at her feet. Seemed like any other ditch weed to Riddick. "Need to find a patch with four-leaves. Berrel told me it grows south of the landing zone. That way I can get the glamour off myself. It's that or a naturally holed stone. But I don't suppose you keep one on your person?" She giggled like this was some great joke.

"Four leaf clovers huh? Whatcha gonna do, eat it?"

"Nope." She skipped away again, off to examine another patch of weeds. She dropped to her knees suddenly, rifling through the grass. "Have to find a big enough patch," she muttered, plucking up a lone clover and holding it up for him. "It's a natural mutation, but it gets passed around to the next generation in pollination."

Riddick took the small four leaf clover from her, still not sure what she planned. Gonna gather them up? Wish her insanity away? It was hot and bright and he was irritated from the long flight and all her nonsense jabber. This had already gone past ridiculous. He was not going to pick flowers with her. He was about to tell her so, when she whooped and flattened on her stomach. And started rolling. Squirming like a dog with an inch.

"...the fuck?!" Riddick reached down to grab her. Kid had gone off the deep end. Took him a second to get hold of her arm. She yelped, batting at him, and pulled back with amazing strength. There was a wet tearing sound and Riddick found himself holding a slough of... skin? Jack landed on her butt, howling and clutching her arm.

"Dammit, Riddick! That hurt! Give it a minute, sheesh!" She fingered her bicep where he'd yanked, examining the moss-green band underneath her fingers. "Fuck. Ow." She shot him a reproachful look. "Gotta give it a few seconds for the web to loosen. This was a serious spell they put on me."

Riddick, hardly squeamish, still looked disgusted as he dropped the translucent white... thing clinging to his fingers. As soon as it hit the grass it seemed to dissolve, disappear. He couldn't see the color change with his shined vision, but he could tell her skin had darkened more than was natural. He could see the remaining layers cracking and peeling around the edge of her arm. Jack sighed and rolled over on all fours, rubbing her hands in the grass, ignoring him.

"Hate this part," she grumbled, more to herself than him. She was ripping up handfuls of the clover, scrubbing her face with it. "Nasty, stupid, confining glamour. " She sat back on her haunches, facing away from him, examining her grass-stained fingers. The were growing, thinning, the skin over them dissolving. They tapered into a point, and a third knuckle ridge appeared. She curled them into a fist and splayed them back out. "Never know how much you miss that third knuckle till it's gone."

Riddick opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. He shut it again, suddenly concientious of staring like a fool. He was used to seeing that look on other people's faces, but he'd never felt that clueless animal-in-headlights incredulousness before.

"Oh fuckity, fuck." Jack shoved her palms against her eyes. "Ow! Ow! OW!!!" Riddick was gaping at the way her fingers curled around her skull like animated twigs- thin and brittle and green. She leaned forward, digging at her eyelids. "Fucking worse than contact lenses!" He saw something small,white and scaly fall from her face. Once. Twice. Then she rubbed her eyes furiously. She took a deep breath, puffed it out. Then stood and turned back to him.

"That's the worst of it." She ran her strange long hands over her head, plucking at her ears. Riddick was too busy staring at her eyes to notice the other subtle shifts still working over her body. Her eyes were black. Pupiless alien things, upturned and huge like a deer or a bug. Her face had always been fine-boned, but now the structure of her cheekbones were higher, more prominent. Her chin was more pointed. The skin was taking on the same luminous green as her arm. But it all accentuated her eyes.

"You should see the look on your face," She grinned. Her voice was the same, but her lips seemed thinner, and her mouth was too wide when she laughed. She was patting her ears, which rose to delicate catlike points, small tufts of hair visible near the tips. She was scratching at her scalp, and as he recovered, Riddick could see black curls growing almost imperceptibly as she shook her head. She gathered it in her fingers, tying it back, up and high, when it reached her shoulders. He was suddenly struck by how the lines of her face looked like Kyra when she did that. That brought him slamming back to reality. He scowled, face settling into his usual impassive mask.

"You done yet?" Not the question she'd expected. But it was Riddick. He'd pretend he was in control even if he was tied upside down over a pit of lava. She sighed. Crossed her arms.

"No. My wings aren't back." She fixed him with her alien eyes, letting him get the full measure of her stare. Riddick felt off kilter again. Finally faced with eyes more unnerving than his own. "But I'd rather be underground when that happens. They pop out now they'll dry too quick, probably get scrunchy and curled." She brushed past him, stalking off for the corpse of trees way off to the left. Riddick waited a few seconds, gazing at the flattened grass, before he turned and followed her.

He was studying the way her clothes hung strangely on her body now. She seemed more curvy, but also thinner. Maybe taller, but still petite for an adult female. There was a strange angularity to her shoulders, and she kept brushing fingertips over them like they itched, but then she'd remember not to touch them. She still moved like an irate Jack, deliberate and heedless as she noiselessly stomped up the rise. That was off-putting. She should be making noise, but her movements were silent.

Jack skirted the edge of the woods for a few ticks before she entered the trees abruptly. She seemed to be following some path only she could see. He knew she was still bristling about his minimal reaction to her transformation. If he'd known she'd go silent on him, he might have given her more of a show. Much as he hated her inane chatter, he didn't like the eerie feeling he was getting from the woods. It was like a scent he couldn't place. He didn't like setting foot on an alien world with absolutely no knowledge of what was waiting for him. The trees all looked the same to him now, which wasn't natural. He was a trained tracker. He didn't get lost. And having escape cut off was kicking up his instincts. Something wasn't right in this place...

Jack stopped suddenly. She was staring at nothing. Just more trees. The same in front as behind.

"You can't see it, can you?" She didn't look at him.

"See what?" He tried, and failed to keep the growl out of his voice.

She took his hand, and the world shimmered. There was a circle of stones before them, perhaps three meters wide, set into the grass. He grunted. Jack shook her head dismissively and stepped forward, tapping one of the stones with her foot. The dead grass in the center of the ring seemed to sink down, revealing a carved natural staircase descending into the dark. She pulled him along easily.

"My transformation may not have impressed you," she eyed him sideways. "But I'd really like to see you unmoved by this."

"This?" He echoed as they started down the stairs into the gloom.

"Home, Riddick. Welcome to the Dark Court."

* * *

_Sorry it's been so long between updates. This story it writing itself out of order. Big stupid fun in chapter 6/7 - when I get there.  
_

_Big debt to author Holly Black and her story "Tithe" - much of the pixie look is lifted from the character of__ Kaye Fierch. If you google it with jetski66 on deviantART- you'll get a beautiful picture. There's also a nice one on the new paperback cover of "Tithe" (but Kaye's blond.) _


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